


OLIVER's MEMORIES

by Georges_1949



Series: OLIVER's MEMORIES [1]
Category: OLIVER's MEMORIES
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 17:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Georges_1949/pseuds/Georges_1949
Summary: OLIVER’S MEMORIESCMBYN’s EXTRACTS FROM OLIVER’S PERSPECTIVEOLIVER OPENS HIS HEART AND TELLS YOU HIS OWN THOUGHTS





	1. MY FIRST CONTACT WITH ELIO

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING  
> Oliver's memories are not necessarily exactly the same as Elio's, neither in words nor in time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WHAT REALLY HAPPENED WHEN OLIVER MET ELIO FOR THE FIRST TIME ?
> 
> WHAT WERE OLIVER’S THOUGHTS ?
> 
> WAS ELIO WAITING FOR OLIVER ?

I am very tired.  
Sitting on the back seat of the cab that is taking me to Mr. Perlman's house, somewhere in Lombardy, I have trouble placing my legs in, which, too long, have made me suffer throughout my endless journey from the United States.  
I started with a first flight from New York to London. After a boring wait, I took a second one to land in Milan and then, I caught a taxi until the train station.  
Afterward, already suffering of time difference, I waited again in a noisy environment to get on the train that must bring me closer to Crema and, finally, I am inside this tiny cab, driving on rough roads towards my final destination.

I cannot wait to reach Mr. Perlman’s manor, even though I do not know really what to expect.  
I know that every summer the professor receives just one university student to help him develop his thesis before publishing it and, at the same time, give him the opportunity to live a dazzling summer in an authentic and beautiful Italy’s corner.

In exchange for, the student must only spend about an hour each day to process Professor’s correspondence and take care of some of his writings.  
I had heard positive feedback from a fellow student who had stayed there. According to him, everything had been wonderful except perhaps, a certain embarrassment caused by the strange attitude of the professor's young son, who kept distant, as if my comrade have disappointed him.  
I decided therefore to submit my application.  
I did not expect to be chosen, because I was the oldest candidate, but I still tried my luck.

I was right : I was chosen !  
Even if I'm not superstitious, it sounded like an angel was watching over me.  
I am happy having a break from my usual routine and living nonchalantly my summer 1983 in a region that caught my attention by the landscapes that I discovered looking at some postcards and classmate’s photos.  
And, why not? far from my parents and my country, I want to be in the thrill of life and in the excitement that pleasure and fright provide.

For over a year, the romantic relationship between my fiancée and me has been going through ups and downs. We decided to move away a little bit, in order to think about it.  
She agreed I spend my summer in Italy but, when I’ll come back, she will require me a firm answer about the future we desire giving to our lives.  
Perhaps, after my stay, I will see more clearly in me and will be able to give her a definitive answer.

I do not know if it is tiredness or the bad mood that results, but I right now I doubt my decision to come here.  
Actually, I am not sure if the images I have seen really represent the region where I will stay.  
I wonder many questions.  
What if Mr. Perlman is a proud, boring and pain-in-the-ass man and the rest of his family is like him?  
What if there is nothing to do in this place and I get bored for the long weeks of my holidays?  
What if my father is right and I should never have left so far from my fiancée and my home?

Fortunately, just when my panic arises, the taxi arrives at its destination, forcing me to adapt my thoughts to cope with the situation of the moment.  
During the twenty-four years of my short life, I have always been able to cope with new and unexpected situations that may occur.  
When a situation gets up, I face it, or even take advantage, if it is worth.  
It is my way of proving I am brave and, at the same time, to hide my sickly shyness.  
My father cannot bear any weakness from me and I do not want to disappoint him.

I always act according to his wishes, never daring to face him.  
In fact, I am the result of my brief childhood, killed too early by my father. However, I cannot say I was unhappy because I am aware to belong to a privileged class.  
Anyway, the weight my father put on my shoulders, hoping that I would be a perfect son and a faultless man, has amputated the first years of my life.  
As the years go by, I no longer know if my ideas and aspirations are really my own or merely a reflection of his ones.  
I look at the past to better tame the present, but I cannot find in my present the feelings that a less rigid childhood could have develop in me.  
Unlike most people, my memories fail to connect my past with my present.  
All these emotional deprivation generate in me some reserves and suspicions that allow protecting me from people’s judgements who, in their misinterpretation, take them like unfriendliness.

Despite everything, I am proud to have built me an armor that no one can pierce. I refuse to reveal my true personality.

It is around 5:00 pm when, finally, I arrive.  
My legs are numb and I got cramps on my back, forcing me to bend over like an old man to get out of the taxi. I am annoyed that people can see me like this. I care about my appearance!

Although the fatigue and my enormous need to sleep, I am pleasantly surprised to discover Mr. Perlman's mansion. It is a typical house of the region, vast and full of windows to ventilate its interior and so, better fight the heat of summer.  
There are flowers everywhere, a vegetable garden and a small field of trees whose yellow, orange and red fruits exacerbate my eyes and foreshadowed ardent summer promises.

I think Mr. Perlman and his wife heard the cab approaching, because they are outside waiting for me, smiling. They both shake my hand firmly, as if to convey to me the sincerity of their warm welcome. Mr. Perlman, jokingly, tells me I look much taller than in the picture I sent him into my candidature file.  
I don't know what he was expecting. I don't want to take his remark as a criticism. I am a little too sensitive to comments done about me. So, while laughing too, I reply I never fit into a photo. They laugh at my joke.

Then Mr. Perlman notices my fatigue.  
With my eyes and my expression, I make him understand my urgent need to get some rest. He comprehends.

We go inside the house, in a kind of workroom, full of books, with a desk and a large armchair, among other pieces of furniture.  
A few minutes after, I feel the atmosphere of the room is changing.  
It is a very weird feeling. The air seems purer to me, as if it were scented with youthfulness and unexpressed hopes.

Through another door that I had not perceived, I see, appearing below its threshold, a thin teenager, with fine and angelic features, with dense and disheveled hair of a dark brown color, who looks like a cherub.  
Wearing shorts, he walks into the room with a nonchalant and graceful step.  
It looked like he was moving towards us in slow motion.  
I have the impression that his time and mine are not running at the same pace.  
This kid appears being surrounded by a magical aura that illuminates the place where he is.  
His gaze has a disarming candor and, at the same time, a depth that seems to scrutinize your soul, exposing it wide open to him.  
It seemed as if his whole life was concentrated in that look, fixing on me.

He's all I see. No one else exists. All dimensions of space and time are focused on him.  
I don't know why, my tiredness disappears, as if my body and my mind were receiving some vital energy from a mysterious and enchanting source.  
For the first time in my life, I feel the uncomfortable sensation that my armor is pierced by the light of his gaze, full of nuances and able to perceive what no other person before him had ever seen.

I have to look away. It's been a long time since anyone, not even my father, made me run away from a look. Why is he looking at me such intensely?  
He smiles at me, with an incredibly frank, pure and innocent smile that seeming to say me:

"I trust you. You're not going to disappoint me, are you?"

One could say he was waiting for me and is checking if I can offer him what he’s expecting.  
Did he watch the photo I sent to his father?  
Is he making comparisons?  
Did he participate in the approval of my application?  
Is he the guardian angel through whom my request was agreed?  
What is he thinking about? I’m afraid teenager's thoughts go far beyond all truths!

But, why the hell am I wondering at all these questions!  
Am I getting paranoid? I have never felt so disturbed, so vulnerable!  
I can’t admit that a teenager be able to awaken in me such new, unexpected and destabilizing reactions.  
I absolutely must stop him from putting my soul bare. I can't afford it, under any circumstance!

Professor introduces us. He is Elio, his 17-year-old son.  
(Is he the young boy my classmate told me about?)

He shakes my hand with strength but very briefly.  
Then his mother asks him to show me my room and to help taking my luggage up.  
It brings me out of my torpor. The charm is broken!

Reality regains its rights and my fatigue is coming back at full gallop.  
At this moment, I see only a spoiled child, used to being satisfied with all his whims and I hope Mr. Perlman won't oblige me dragging him around all time.

Now, with a little sneaky smile, Elio is showing me the way and I follow him.  
For a few seconds, I catch myself looking at his neck, legs and buttocks, without understanding why I’m doing this. Was I crossing invisible and unsuspected boundaries?  
Fortunately, as I go up the stairs, I meet a very beautiful girl who, coming down, greets me and kisses me on the cheek, as if we had left each other the day before.  
No doubt: I am in the good place!  
If I hadn't been so tired, I would have reacted differently, I'm sure!

Elio explains me that, as all the other students have done every summer, I will occupy his room and that he just move to the next one. I think he adds we have to share the bathroom.   
I barely listen to him, but this idea does not displease me.  
My tiredness is killing me and I no longer pay attention to him.

As soon as we arrive into his room, which is now mine, I desperately look for a bed and, all dressed, I throw onto, without even taking off my shoes.  
I vaguely realize that my manners are not very polite, but I have no more energy to undress.  
I will have time to apologize the next day, after a good, long night's sleep.  
I think I fell asleep, because I heard a noise that makes me startle and wakes me up  
Without realizing how much he disturbs me, or maybe doing it deliberately, Elio pretending being “the perfect host", informs me that dinner will soon be served.

With a killer look, I tell him I apologize to his parents, but that I am too tired to do anything but sleep. Before falling again asleep, I make the effort to whisper him a “thank you” for allowing me to use his room.

Ignoring my pleas to leave me alone, he persists:

"If you need anything, you just have to ask me".  
But I do not answer him.

He looks at me, surprised, as if I were the rudest person in the world.  
I glimpse on his face an incomprehensible expression of disillusionment.

Completely dizzy from sleep, I want to tell him :  
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow morning”.

But my lips can only murmur:

"Later…..”


	2. MY FIRST SIGN TO ELIO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OLIVER’S MEMORIES
> 
> CMBYN’s EXTRACTS FROM OLIVER’S PERSPECTIVE  
> OLIVER OPENS HIS HEART AND TELLS YOU HIS OWN THOUGHTS
> 
> WARNING  
> Oliver's memories are not necessarily exactly the same as Elio's, neither in words nor in time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY OLIVER USED TO SAY “LATER” ?
> 
> HOW DOES OLIVER SHOW ELIO THAT HE PLEASES HIM ?
> 
> WHAT DOES OLIVER THINK ABOUT ELIO’S MASCULINE ATTRIBUTES ?
> 
> WHAT ARE THE CONSEQUENCES OF OLIVER’S FAILED GESTURE ?
> 
> Warning  
> This chapter contains some sexual descriptions

Since arriving five days ago, I’m adjusting to living in the nonchalant rhythm of this idyllic paradise, brimming with promises. Every second, my senses are invaded with the energizing signals from the summer environment.  
The fragrant breeze from flowers, the visual images of ripe fruit and the atmosphere laden with smells full of exciting promises, caress my face, my torso and my legs, filling my pores and nostrils with aphrodisiac scents.  
Girls and boys from the surrounding area accepted me with sincerity. This makes me feel very comfortable by their side.  
Together, we swim in the lake, and play sports while in the evenings, we have fun dancing and flirting with each other, like actors into a cute erotic play.  
I also jog and cycle, usually with Elio, who seems to enjoy my company, but whose behavior towards me is difficult to understand.  
I feel I am becoming popular among the locals people.  
Girls want being with me, and boys are envious of my good looks and wanted to look like me, so that they could easily flirt with girls.  
Chiara, a fresh beautiful girl, is openly interested in my young male charms.

Sometimes, here and there, I hear comments saying I am more handsome and nicer than all my predecessors did.  
I am letting it happen. It is very pleasant to feel desired and envied.  
Despite all these activities, my work is not affected. Quite the contrary: I work better, with my mind free of any constraints.  
Mr. and Mrs. Perlman make me feel welcome as if I were a lifelong family’s friend.  
Professor Perlman understands me and displays openness that is intimate as well as an understanding of me. This is a new experience for me, a tender bond between males. I would have liked to find these attributes in my own Father. It’s with great pleasure that we share our views on various subjects often going far beyond our fields of study. It is a type of relationship that I‘ve always desired.  
This world, in Crema, suits me perfectly.  
What a difference from with life I was leading at home, where my father was always very strict, forcing me to study like a maniac to always get the best grades!  
Being a teenager, every time I asked his permission to go out until very late with my friends or to spend a few days with them away from our home, he would ask me if I had finished my homework. Anyway, he always answered me: “not now, later", meaning that I would have plenty of time to have fun, once I would graduate with honors.  
I wonder if the fathers’ tyranny provokes an unhealthy sensitivity in their children, but anyhow I am suffering for mistakes I do not remember having committed.  
Nevertheless, I am sure that everything that teenagers feel like nastiness hurt directly their heart and remain forever in their subconscious.  
For my father, anything that could give me pleasure or relaxation had to be done "later". Always "later”! He repressed every impulse in my youth.  
I have heard this word so much that I have unconsciously integrated it into my vocabulary and, worse, into my mind. Therefore, I say "later" whenever I want to get away from a situation that is not suitable for me or that makes me feel uncomfortable.   
However, its meaning goes far beyond that.  
When I feel good in a group of friends, the pleasure is so strong I like to stay with them as long as possible, because their presence brings me well-being.  
Leaving them makes me sad, so the moment of goodbyes is always difficult to me.  
For not prolonging these moments of sorrow, I prefer to cut clean and go away by broadcasting a "later" which prevents them from extending the interval devoted to farewells: It is so ambiguous that everyone can understand it in their own way, allowing me to hide my embarrassment and shyness.  
In addition, as if that was not enough, I realize that it gives me a relaxed and confident expression, which goes well with the image I want to convey.

I am also welcomed in the downtown bar, where I go from time to time to play poker with other insiders, older than me.  
Luck does not always smile me, but in recent years, I have been doing odd jobs to manage earning my own money, so I do not have to ask for it to my dad. I only let him pay for my university studies.  
The bar overlooks Crema’s central square, around which also is situated my translator's workshop, allowing me to kill several birds with one stone when I come to city.  
In the square center there is a huge monument dedicated to the dead of a war, although I don't know which one.  
My days would have been peaceful if Elio did not exist.  
This boy manages to be very often is in the places where I am. It appears to me that he likes doing thing just to be near me.  
First, he insisted on making me discover the surroundings of his house and village and, since then, he has always been present in the group of young people who share activities with me.  
He even is accompanying me to the bar to learn the way I play and is surprised to see me integrate so easily all Crema's circles.  
This teenager makes me uncomfortable.  
And, even though at times he annoys me, I have learned to admire him.  
Elio is fluent in several languages, can play piano and guitar, dances gracefully, makes musical transcriptions, write his own music and reads a lot, not only novels, but mostly classics and treatises on history and arts.  
One can say he is a living encyclopedia. All this at 17 years old!  
To complete his "perfection", despite his skinny constitution, his lack of manly muscles and his hairless body and face, I discovered, by chance, that his masculine attributes were impressive and that Nature had endowed him generously.  
Since we share the same bathroom, every time I wanted to enter, I just knock on the door and, if it was not locked, I go in without waiting for any answer because we are both males, aren't we ? That’s how one afternoon I caught him naked when he was taking a shower.  
At 17 years old, despite his frail and small body, I was able to see through his sparse pubic hair that he was very well-hung!  
His testicles, well rounded and pink, fit very well his circumcised sex, long and surprisingly thick, whose conical glans opened like a wild mushroom.  
I smiled at him wryly as if I had caught him at fault, while staring at his crown jewels.  
I caught myself comparing our dimensions.  
So true is that in absolute terms, my three piece set are bigger than his, but compared to our respective bodies, his one offer a much more striking contrast.

Elio turned red and immediately hid behind his bath towel, shouting at me to be careful next time. I did not understand his reaction. When our group of friends goes swimming to the lake, we undress completely without showing any embarrassment.  
Why did he feel uncomfortable at that moment? Because we were alone?  
On leaving, I imagined the handsome man he would become when he was older.  
Intellectually and sexually, he could have the world at his feet!  
What makes me nervous is that, no matter where I am, every time I look at him I find his eyes staring at me, even if, crossing mine, he lowers his own or turns his head to look elsewhere.  
He still has the same look that had destabilized me the day I arrived, when we met for the first time. It is enough that our eyes meet for a few seconds, for me to shake me up.   
Elio keeps undressing me, either in body and soul.  
The worst is that he provokes in me physical reactions that I don't understand and I would have preferred never to feel.  
I must admit it: Elio pleases me physically a lot. Moreover, what I like most about him is precisely what should drive me away: his youthfulness!  
Every time I see him dressed in a simple swimsuit, I feel an intense desire of him. I am appalled and at the same time bewitched.  
It’s true I have already found some boys handsome in my university, especially in the locker room, but they had never provoked me sexual reactions.  
With Elio, uncertain mixture of angel and devil, all my bearings have been broken.  
I vaguely realize that my encounter with him constitutes an unexpected conjunction capable of altering the course of my life, making it divert towards unsuspected trajectories.  
Not only do I feel humiliated being excited by a man, but also I feel dirty to do it for a 17-year-old teenager. Have I become some kind of pervert? No, no. Of course not!  
It is the summer, the crystal clear waters of the lakes, the exuberance of Nature, the breeze, the smells, my new freedom and the beautiful girls that overwhelm my senses making my body react in weird ways.  
Thanks to my thesis, sports, swimming, dancing, poker and Chiara, I will be able to get rid of Elio's influence and the temptations he awakens in me. I have to succeed, especially since I'm not sure that Elio feels something similar for me.  
True to my way of acting, I decide to face this new situation.  
I'm going to give Elio a sign, so that he realizes I like him, that I desire him!  
Should I do it? If not, how can I verify that my feelings deserve to exist?  
Should I annihilate the hope of a new experience for lack of courage?  
My hesitations collapse when I see him smiling. Elio’s smile is able to damn all the angels of Heaven. 

I let carry by fate; I am ready to submit to destiny, even if it means starting a new existence.  
If Elio answers affirmatively, it will be an opportunity for me to have an affair with someone of my own sex. Did not I come to Italy for living crazy adventures?  
One has to try a homosexual experience at least once in life!  
I am sure that once our desires satisfied, mutual attraction will die and I will be able to live the rest of the summer in peace. Elio is experiencing the awakening of his hormones and, just like me, once his curiosity fulfilled, he will no longer pay attention to me.  
And if he responds negatively, I will accept his decision. I will no longer support his gaze and I will avoid him as much as possible. Afterwards, my imminent relations with Chiara or others girls will help calming my ardors and my indifference towards him will cool his ones.  
Nevertheless, I must act with caution. I cannot give him a sign too obviously.  
I am scared that everyone is able to understand my gesture, but above all, I am afraid of myself, of whom I am becoming, now that I am determined to act.  
An aggressive refusal on his part would have disastrous repercussions for me, regarding my hosts and friends in the village.   
Maybe I may have to leave the Professor's house and even Crema!  
Therefore, I decide to do it indirectly. I take advantage of the fact that we are playing volleyball with my young friends to dare my maneuver.  
Who would believe that I'm flirting with Elio in the middle of the crowd?  
Only he will be able to understand my intentions!

As Elio walks around with a bottle of water, I take the opportunity to approach him, under the pretext of being thirsty. I snatch his bottle, drink a little bit and, after passing it to someone else, I start to touch his shoulder, arms and neck, pretending he is tense and that I can help him relax with my massage. I am even joke, saying I have studied medicine!  
First, he tries to flee with not too much conviction.  
Does he understand my intention and, like me, is trying to save appearances or is it a primal reaction to the surprise of my act?  
Anyway, tenderly but firmly, I force him to stay put, while continuing to massage his body.

My God, his skin is smooth, warm and silky like of a ripe peach ready to be devoured!  
Some kind of electrical current gets through his body to mine.  
I don't know if skin orgasm exists, but I think my hands have one when I touch his neck.  
This orgasmic sensation transfers like a wave along my arms, and then bifurcates: first to my head where a kind of very pleasant warmth spreads in my eyes, then crosses my skull and bristles my hair roots like a wild animal. Then, this wellness wave reaches my torso, continues towards my sex, which vibrates and swells with pleasure, ending in my legs, which seem to let go and no longer be able to support my body.  
My whole being is overwhelmed by an ecstasy that makes me weak and immensely happy.

 

I have to endure this explosion of my senses by simulating indifference and forcing a smile to hide the sighs that were escaping from my throat and the lump that was forming on my crotch.   
If I had any doubts about the excitement that this kid is awakening in me, they disappeared at that moment. I desire him!  
I don't care if he's a teenager and my host's son. I just want him, that's all!  
With my hands - too big and rough for his frail body - I need caressing him tenderly, inch by inch, from his feet to his head.  
I need taking him in my arms, to ask him looking at me with his depth gaze and let me sink into his eyes until he knows everything about me and our bodies melt together forming an indivisible whole.  
It is not my life that dictates these thoughts, but the life I imagine if Elio accepts my advances.  
I feel like an ordinary man living an extraordinary dream that only Elio can offer me.  
Unfortunately, my dreams died as soon as they were born.  
Elio reacts violently. He flees from my contact and then from me, as if I were crazy, without suspecting that he is the cause of my madness.  
My attempt, my sign towards him, whose have required from me so much efforts and renunciations, make me living his reaction as an affront.  
I remain stunned, astonished, without knowing what to do.  
First, I feel an immense disillusionment, then certain sadness and, finally, a mortifying shame that evolves into anger.  
To get out of this trap, I have the presence of mind to call Marcia, who was near us, so she takes over and thus save the situation. Nobody must understand the failure of my audacity!  
Elio starts walking fast getting away from us and leaves the playground.  
I'm going back to the volleyball match, my limp tail between my legs and more disoriented than ever.  
And despite everything, I keep thinking about Elio.  
I made a mistake. Fucking shit, I was wrong!  
His gazes mean nothing and he feels nothing for me!  
Or perhaps yes. From now on, he feels aversion. Like the disgust that I feel for myself.  
My first reaction is to run away and go home, but I choose never to allow Elio or anyone else to dictate my actions.  
Therefore, I decide to distance myself from him, but not too explicitly, because his family and friends could misunderstand it.  
However, I will let him know I no longer want to do anything with him and that he must leave me the hell alone!

 

Yet, I still think that through his eyes, Elio has always wanted to convey me a message.  
My failed attempt turned my erotic obsession into sexual passion.  
If Elio is really interested in me, from now on, it will be up to him to take the first step.  
I won't help him. I will even make the task very difficult to him.

And so much the better if, in the meantime, my desire for him vanishes, though I fear it will not die like a candle on which one blows, but like an ember that is burn slowly until ashes.

That would make things better for both of us.  
However, deep inside me, I hope that Elio's refusal was only a primal reaction of fear to the unknown.  
I wish he will overcome it and have the courage to give me a smarter and more obvious sign than the one I just gave him, which failed miserably.

In any case, if this sign happens one day, I hope it will come not too later, because……  
If not later, when?


	3. MY FIRST KISS TO ELIO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OLIVER’S MEMORIES  
> CMBYN’s EXTRACTS FROM OLIVER’S PERSPECTIVE
> 
> OLIVER OPENS HIS HEART AND PROVIDES YOU HIS OWN ANSWERS
> 
> WARNING  
> Oliver's memories are not necessarily exactly the same as Elio's, neither in words nor in time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT ARE THE REAL OLIVER’S FEELINGS FOR ELIO ?
> 
> WHY DOES OLIVER KISS ELIO ?
> 
> WHAT DOES OLIVER FEEL DURING THIS KISS ?
> 
> WHAT WERE THE CONSEQUENCES FOR OLIVER’S PSYCHE ?
> 
> Warning  
> This chapter contains some sexual descriptions

The ploy I put in place to get away from Elio, works very well.  
Since the humiliation that his refusal caused me when I dared to touch his body, during my failed attempt to let him know how much he excited me, I took my distance from him.   
Whenever I can, I am cold, distant, and even unpleasant with him.  
The reason I say, "Whenever I can", is that when I realize that Elio is suffering because of my behavior, I feel sadness and guilt.  
When I watch him, an uncontrollable affection arises and forces me to break my determination and be kind. I comprehend he is confused by my mood swings and as I always hope that my desire for him is reciprocal, I am not sure how to react.  
Should I keep being unpleasant even if I take the risk of never being able to realize anything with him? Or should I offer him others opportunities to make up for his unfortunate reaction of that day? My life becomes an unbearable and cruel permanent expectation.  
I no longer feel the joy of spending my summer in a "corner of paradise"  
My desire for Elio upsets my emotional balance.  
For the first time in my life, I feel spiritually weak.  
I continually feign indifference, while fire consumes me inwardly.

From time to time, I have outbursts of courage and I tell myself that I absolutely must give him some new less ambiguous sign, of the sexual attraction he exerts on me  
But, immediately, I wonder about the advisability of such a gesture.  
What if Elio rejects me again?  
What if he tells everything to his parents who, disappointed and upset, ask me to leave and, even worse, phone my father to inform him of my perversity?  
I’m in a dilemma!  
Will I be able to overcome my fears and accept suffering provided to have a hope of seducing Elio? I'm risking a lot. Really lot!  
Not only to desire a man, but because this man is only 17 years old!  
I'm fighting. My God, I'm fighting to get Elio out of my mind and out of my skin!  
His presence always excites me and, when he is absent, I think of him in erotic terms.  
I remember the morning I came into his room, unexpectedly, to propose him to join our group for going swim. I caught him wanking. He was so cute!  
Shamed and fearful that I might notice his erection, he declined my invitation while hiding his sex with the book he claimed to be reading.  
To make him uncomfortable, I asked why he was locked up on such a beautiful morning.  
The little rascal replied me that he was sick!  
I smiled at his embarrassment and, to let him know that I was not fooled, told him that I very often suffered from the same disease.  
When I came into my room to put on my bathing suit, I caught him at the door, trying to see me naked, but it was too late! A glimmer of hope came over me: maybe was he thinking of me when he was masturbating?  
Finally, he calmed down and we found ourselves at the entrance of the house, both of us in swimsuit.  
I remember also the day when I was lying by the pool, re-reading a few pages of my treatise on Heraclitus, whose meaning I no longer understood.  
Elio was sleeping on a deckchair, not far from me. His bathing suit was slightly open at the thigh, showing the mesh fabric that molded his balls. .  
I felt a sudden need to have him near me. I woke him up, calling as if I didn't realize he was asleep.  
He approached me with a smile that would have made hard-on a eunuch!  
His silhouette began to excite me. Some parts of my body were also waking up, and I couldn't control them.  
I read him the gibberish I had written a few months ago, asking if he understood something, while telling that I didn't understand why I had had those ideas.   
He replied that, perhaps, at the time of writing, I had found a meaning in it.

He said it with such spontaneity and sincerity that a surge of tenderness overwhelmed me.  
I replied, deeply moved, that it was the kindest thing I had heard in a long time.  
He seemed surprised.  
But I was even more than touched.   
His physical proximity, his smile, his naivety, his kindness and the tone of his voice, made me hard-on.  
I was terrified that he would realize it, so I let me fall into the pool, to avoid him of seeing my erection, while praying that the water, not yet hot, calms my excitation.  
I stayed a few seconds in apnea under water.  
When I got out, Elio was gone.  
Had he realized? Had I disgusted him?  
Ultimately, since I'd already seen him get a hard-on on his bed, we were quits!  
This morning, I am still sitting by the pool, my feet in the water.  
I think about Elio every second. Time is passing and I am scared to death that my stay will end without I be able to reveal him the fascination he exerts on me.  
Should I openly tell him what I feel for him, despite the danger of such an approach?  
Then, in one of those coincidences that may seem like signs of destiny to superstitious people, Elio comes up and talks to me as if we were resuming a conversation that we has just interrupted.  
“Do you know Marguerite de Navarre's L’Heptaméron?” Elio asks 

“The one who talks about the Chevalier Amadour, in love with Princess Florida, who doesn't know if he should confess his love to her?”

“That’s right, Oliver. The Knight hesitates between keeping the friendship he shares with the Princess or risking losing her by confessing his love. He asks her a question that I will never have the courage to ask anyone.”

“Which one?” I stutter

“Should I speak or die?”

“Haven’t you already told me about it?”  
By making this comment, I'm trying to save some time, even if in reality, I desired to take his hands and whisper in his ear: 

"You can tell me all many times you want to.”

Fortunately, Elio cannot see my face, otherwise he would understand the conflicting feelings that overwhelm me. This is exactly the same question I'm asking myself about him!  
Still turning my back on him, I go on,

“So, Elio, what does the Princess tell him?”

“You can say all you want.”

“And then, does he speak?”

“No, he’s terrified and keeps silence.”

This is exactly my situation. My confusion is total. To relax the atmosphere, I tell him,

“Logic. He's a coward French!”

I would have liked him to interpret the true meaning of my answer:   
“Please, do not do like him!”

Something unusual and new grips me. I have a kind of intuition  
I feel like something important is going to happen today.  
I wish and fear it at the same time, but I want to encourage destiny.  
It's been several days since I avoid Elio when I go to town, so, he’s surprised when I propose him to come with me, because “I have a few things to do”,

“Right now?” he asks

I try to sweet-talk him, with some embarrassment,

“Yes, right now. Unless you have something better to do.”

I'm afraid he’ll say no. But he accepts eagerly, repeating my question in a mocking tone, which gives me goose bumps.  
I feel that he feels we are living a milestone in our relationships.  
Like me, does he think of the dilemma between the Knight and the Princess?  
Will he speak not to die?

We are going to get our bikes.  
On the way, I show him a scratch I made me the day before, when I fell.  
In fact, childishly, I just wanted to show him my torso closer.   
Unconsciously I had the desire that Elio, to see my wound better, put his hand delicately on my skin. Just this idea made my lifeblood run and almost caused me a new erection.  
Elio brings me back to my childhood memories, when my friends and I would show each other our little wounds and sometimes our little peckers.   
It was urgent to go!  
So, we take our bicycles and go to Crema.  
We do the route gently, pedaling slowly, to enjoy the landscape and soak up the day.  
In reality, I take my time because I fear what can await me at the end of the journey.

 

Once we arrived at the central square in Crema, I don't know what to say to justify why I had asked Elio to come with me.  
To save some time, I get into the pub to buy cigarettes and I offer him one that he willingly accepts. I light mine and, with my hands, I approach his face so that he can light his own.  
My hands have never been so close to his cheeks.  
His cigarette lights up, my heart ignites and elsewhere, I burn.  
We start smoking while we lean our bikes on the fence surrounding the war memorial.  
I ask him if he likes “gauloises” cigarettes.  
He nodded while telling me he didn't know I liked smoking.  
I confess I don't smoke, without specifying I’m doing it now to give myself some courage.  
I have to create a diversion, otherwise I'll soon crack.

Therefore, I try establishing the conversation,

“Is it a World War II monument?”

“No Oliver, from the First. He honors one of his most deadly battles.”

Continuing our talk, I test his knowledge,  
“As you’re so cultured, Elio, Do you know who drowned around here?”

“So easy Oliver! The poet Percy Bysshe Shelley.”

“And do you know what his friends and wife did when they found his body?”

“Cor Cordium. They grabbed the poet's heart before the flames completely consumed his body, which was burning on the shore.”

I can see in his expression that he is proud to be able to answer, but that he does not understand where I am going with this and why I am asking him these questions.  
To defuse my nervousness, I flatter him,

“Is there something you don't know, Elio?”

I'm playing with fire! Will I burn my wings?  
He looks at me, with scrutinizing and accusing eyes. They express sadness and, at the same time, challenge,

“I don’t know anything, Oliver. Nothing that really interests me. Nothing that matters to me to get by in life.”

My heart is bouncing!  
Will he finally open up to me? Will he give me the sign I've been waiting for so many days?,

“And what really matters to you, Elio?”

I await his answer as a death row inmate awaits the act of grace of his executioner,

“You know it very well, Oliver. Have the courage to admit your thoughts!”

I'm starting to get scared.  
Now that things seem to be taking a direct and clear turn, the ghosts of my upbringing and his age are shaking me inwardly.  
Praying he does not notice the trembling of my voice, I ask him,

“Why the hell are you telling me all this?”

“Because I think you should know, Oliver.”

Wow, wow! What's going on?  
His direct and scathing answer nails me to the spot  
I am expecting an admission of mere sexual curiosity from a gifted and sensitive teenager.  
But the way he talks to me, the choice of his words and the intonation of his voice, suggest something else. What message does he want to convey?  
Before my eyes, Elio became, from now on, a man  
Disconcerted, I need clarifications,

“Because you think I need to know what, Elio?”

He approaches me. We are only a few inches apart. He raises his head, braving me openly and staring at me, with an intensity never equaled. He is no longer afraid of me. He's not afraid of anyone. He is the Prince of Lights!

“My feelings. Because I need you to know them. Because I can't tell anyone else but you.”

I don't believe what I'm hearing. The sign I was expecting from him is taking unexpected ways.  
A knot forms in my stomach. I panic and at the same time, I feel flattered.  
What do I expect from this kid? What does he expect from me?

“Are you sure of what you have just told me, Elio? Did I understand well? Are you telling me what I think?”

I expect a negation or, at least, a hesitation. But nothing like that happens.  
Always with his merciless gaze fixed on me, he replies,

“Sorry if I scare you, but don't play dumb. Yes, you understood very well.”

His answer is clear and unequivocal. Everything is said.  
The situation is escaping me.  
He knows I know the ball is now in my court.  
I didn't want to go so far and yet my soul becomes light and my sex heavy.  
To give me a few moments of respite, I move away from Elio to enter my translator's home, just a few steps away.

 

But, as I am afraid he misinterprets my gesture and think that I am running away from him, as he had fled from me the day I gave him my first sign, I say to him, in a tone too begging for my liking,

“Wait here for me. I'm going to get my papers. Don't go away!”

With a mixture of resignation and challenge, he says,

“You know perfectly well that I'm not going anywhere without you.”

His answer touches, upsets me and pierces my heart.  
Like a slap, he just answered the question I are obsessed with,

"Should I talk or die?"

He had chosen to speak so as not to die. But what would I do?  
Few minutes later, I leave my translator's house, looking angry because, supposedly, she made a mistake with my papers and “I have for a whole day of work”.  
Actually, everything is fine, but I have to find an excuse to hide my distress.  
I know I have to give Elio an answer. But I don't know which one. I am confused about my feelings. I'm starting to think that perhaps my idea of provoking Elio to express his feelings was not so good.

What I feel for Elio is only desire or it goes far beyond?  
Am I falling in love with him?  
Can a 24-year-old young man fall in love with a 17-year-old teenager?  
I'll be backing home soon, to the United States.  
What can a hypothetical love between Elio and me offer us, but pain and shame?  
I'm older than Elio and, I hope, more mature.  
I have to think for both of us and take a decision. Even if we have painful now, not taking the good one could make us unhappy for a long time.

As usual, I'm working my brains out to deal with this new situation.  
Fortunately, Elio offers me an exit gate,

“I should have done as the Knight and kept silent.”

Phew! Poor boy! His words give me the means to stop the damage, although I am sad to see him denying his courage for fear of losing my friendship, of losing me.

“OK Elio. I’ll consider that you never said it.”

He wouldn't let go, the little sweet bastard!

“Does this mean that we can continue talking to each other, but without ever touching that subject?”

 

I try to reason with him,

“Listen Elio, please, try to understand me. We cannot talk about these things. Definitely not!

Actually, I think:   
“You're at the peak of your sexual awakening. I cannot put us in danger for a whim that will pass as soon as it will satisfied and that, maybe, will leave us ashamed of each other. I have to decide for both of us, even if it hurts us.”

But I do not dare to say anything. I want not to ruin everything.  
Should I let the situation follow its path in silence?  
I know I disillusioned him. I want to be nice to moderate his disappointment.  
He's again offering me a way out,

“Do you want I show you a place that nobody knows except me?”

And, with the exaggerated tact of a child who wants to be forgiven by a mischievousness, he adds lowering his head,

“Well, if you want and you have time.”

The answer escapes me: I can’t control it.  
“I want to. Even if I haven’t time!”

We get back on our bicycles and go on the deserted country road, which at this time of day, belongs to us. As we pedal in the middle of this peaceful environment, I forget the complexity of everything that is happening to us.

After about half an hour, Elio stops his bike, drops it on the ground, takes off his shoes, urges me to do the same and shouts me to follow him.  
I do what he wants, without really knowing where he is bringing me. I want to please him.  
I feel good sharing his caprices.  
He goes to a small lake of transparent water and does not hesitate to enter.  
I trail him. 

“Shit! The water is very cold!” I tell him.

He laughs and explains to me the water comes from the mountains.  
With my hands, I take a little to refresh my face.  
I stand in the middle of the lake, admiring all around me this Eden known only to Elio and now to me,

“This is my own corner” Elio murmur.  
I come here to read. You can't imagine the number of books I've read here and the dreams they've awakened in me.  
And over there, that's where Monet used to come painting. It's his Mound  
One more appeal for help!  
I look and listen to this young man, in this environment of breathtaking beauty and I cannot avoid the wave of tenderness that overwhelms me. Elio is simply gorgeous! Monet would have liked to include him in his paintings.

“Do you like being alone, Elio?”

“No, Oliver. No one likes to be alone. But I’ve learned to live with it.”

I could have said the same thing. I wish he were happy,  
“Are you always so thoughtful and wise?”

“No, I'm not. I only know what I've read in books. I don't know how to talk about real life.”

“But you talked about a few minutes ago. In your own way, but you did it. I love the way you express yourself, Elio. Why do you always demean yourself?”

He shrugs,

“Maybe to prevent you from doing it?”

“Why would I do that, Elio? Are you afraid of the opinion others have of you?”

“No, Oliver. I'm afraid of what you think of me.”

While talking, Elio approaches me as never before, her eyes straight looking into mine, conveying a light full of promises of unequaled happiness, provided that I know how to seize the opportunity. His gaze penetrates me to the depths of my soul. His mouth, no doubt inexpert, seems to challenge me to kiss him. I'm getting excited and have to make a huge effort to control myself. I dare not check if he's excited too.

To relax the atmosphere, we play like two kids, splashing us cold water with our legs.  
Then Elio climbs on my back, grabbing my waist with his legs and my neck with his arms.  
We’re laughing like two children.  
I take him out of the lake, climbing up the opposite shore, twist my body to drop him on the lawn and l lay beside him,

“You're making it very difficult for me, Elio. A lot!”  
Inside I was screaming, “Please have mercy on me!”

“Why are you telling me that, Oliver? What am I making you so difficult?”

At this moment, I must make a superhuman effort not to reveal to him the new feelings that he brings forth in me, squeezing my heart to blood tears.  
The little rogue know how to rub salt in the wound!

“That I may restrain myself, Elio.”

“Restrain you? From what?”

“From what goes through our minds. That wouldn’t be good.”

“And what's going through your mind, Oliver?” He's taking his revenge, the boy!

“You know it very well, Elio. Something's going on between us.”

“Ah! Do you think so? Then, I'm the last one to discover it! Actually, nothing is happening, Oliver, absolutely nothing!”

“Oh, Elio, Elio. You're acting like a spoiled child who didn't get his favorite toy. If it makes you feel any better, know that I have to make a lot of effort not to succumb to your advances.”

“So from now on, we'll feign a mutual indifference?”

“Isn't that what we've always done since we met for the first time?”  
What an idiot I am! I curse myself for telling him that.

But, anyway, games are over. We showed all our cards.  
I am in a special frame of mind that changes my value system and my ability to reason logically. Without moving, we look at the fields cultivated to infinity and the exuberant life that manifests all around us.  
We keep talking, lying next to the other, without daring to touch us.  
I assure him that he is the luckiest boy in the world, possessing the intellectual wealth, the family and the environment he owns,

“You don't seem to be aware of your happiness, Elio.”

While chewing a blade of grass, he says,  
“There are a lot of things wrong with my life, Oliver.”

I try teasing him a bit,

“What's wrong Elio: Your parent's comprehension? Your freedom to do what you like? Your erudition? Your charm?”

He grasps I’m joking and smiles sadly, 

“Forget it, Oliver! Let it drop! Now I'm happy and I wish these moments would never end.”

He deals the decisive blow: I’m down! I have no choice.  
His voice denotes a very acute nostalgia for something he has not yet experienced, but that he sickly need living to have something to remember it in a future that no one knows what it will bring to us.

I am direct, “Then, Elio, what's wrong in your life? Our relationship?”

I see his body shudder, but he doesn't look at me.

It seems that my words have put him in an ecstasy from which he fears coming out at the slightest movement.  
It's his turn to tease me,

“That's not too bad as deduction, Oliver. Go on just like that!”

Seeing him in this way, his beauty melting with the landscape, his mouth ajar, his eyes narrowed, his body abandoned to happiness, as if he no longer expected anything from life than to keep these moments until infinity, completely shook me up.

I wanted him to be happy for at least these instants. That he may keep an unforgettable memory of these moments and let him remember the Monet’s Mound as the landmark, not only of him, but also of both of us.

I rise up a little and bow towards him, approaching my right hand to his mouth. Delicately, I caress it softly, sliding my fingers around his lips. He closes his eyes and for a few seconds does not react. Still with his eyes closed, he opens his mouth, like an invitation to receive my fingers. His tongue, inexpert but sweet, licks them gently and, moan with pleasure, his mouth closes a little bit to suck them one after other.

I let him satisfy his fantasies.  
I feel once again, but multiplied by a thousand, the electric shock I felt the day I touched his neck. My swimsuit is getting tighter and tighter. It is impossible for me to ignore that his is also shrinking. Joy makes me smile. I am in seventh heaven!  
I feel floating in a kind of protective cloud, where concerns and misfortunes don’t exist. Where life is simple and desire imposes its laws. 

Elio opens his eyes and seeks for mine, with an inquiring and fearful look. I pull my fingers out of his mouth, causing at Elio’s an expression of despair. Then, not being able to hold back any longer, I do what now I am sure, I always wanted to do as soon as I saw him for the first time, the afternoon of my arrival.

I approach my lips to his and they touch each other without haste. I kiss his mouth, hot and humid, which drinks mine as if his salvation depended on it.  
I kiss his life, which at that moment, was mine. I’m kissing this 17-year-old boy who is changing my life. I think of the magnificent sensuality of two men kissing, in a motionless and endless silence. Our minds are focused on this kiss. There is nothing else. It occupies all the space and all the time. It is the summary of our short lives.

However, I realize that I am losing my self-control. I don't know how far this kiss can go if I don't pull myself together. So, I take my mouth off his, which follows me as if attracted by a magnet made of desire and passion.  
I gently push back his body.

Elio seems resigned and accepts that our kiss ends.  
As much to tease him as to control me, I joke:

“And now, are you feeling better? Are you happy?”  
Instead, I want to shout: “Am I able to make you happy? Tell me I make you happy!”

Elio does not answer. His face takes a mischievous expression.  
He stares at me from top to bottom and realizes that something is sticking out of my shorts.  
So, perhaps imagining that everything is clear and uncomplicated between us, he throws himself on me, to continue kissing me, now with less tenderness and more ardors.  
His tongue, intuitively, looks for mine and I offer it to him with passion.

When his frail body sticks to mine, for a few endless seconds I had to fierce fight against myself. My God! What the hell am I doing! How can I dare to take advantage from the innocence and hormones of a 17-year-old teenager? I was afraid, scared of succumbing to our desires and making love to him! Shame on me!  
Just this thought, makes me instantly lose my erection!  
I put Elio aside and force him to sit beside me.

“No, Elio, no. Stop it. Please, stop! I know how my sexuality works. We must not go ahead. I don't know if I will be able to hold back.”

Elio, braver or more unconscious than me, screams,

“So what? I don't fucking care! Don't hold back! Oliver, I beg you, don't hold back!”

His attitude, a mixture of ardor and supplication, is very difficult for me to endure,

“Elio, we've been wise. We have done nothing to make us ashamed. It's better to stay like this. I want us to remain good. I want us never to regret having known each other and to keep beautiful memories of both us.”

I see that Elio, probably because of his age and carelessness, cannot control his desire.  
I realize that he does not understand why we stopped, when the most difficult barrier, from his point of view, has already been crossed.

Then, this kid, this cherub, this adorable and shy teenager, who has been waiting weeks to tell me openly about his feelings for me, is doing something that catches me off guard and leaves me stunned.  
With a fast and determined movement, he puts his right hand on my crotch and, through my swimsuit, fondles my dick and balls, as I had done on his neck four weeks earlier.  
He looks at the horizon, as if asking it for an answer to his anxieties: Is he ashamed? Is it his shyness taking over despite his bold gesture?  
It lasts a while, impossible to measure.

He says me,  
“I know you like it, but, does my boldness offend you, Oliver?”

Of course, he is not offending me. I am not sure he realizes the implications of his actions.  
I think he does it like a child dares to touch a toy knowing he can never get it  
On the other hand, I am aware of the danger that my weakness poses to us.  
I put my hand on his and, for a few seconds, I hesitate between guiding it under my shorts or remove it. I gently but firmly take his hand off and guide it towards his knee.

“Stop this, Elio. Just don't do it.”

He gives up, directs me a last look of reproach, turns his back on me and sighs as if he no longer expects anything from me nor this summer and, worse, as if he doesn’t expect anything from life anymore.

We walk back across the lake, slowly, as if our bodies were heavier than when we arrived.   
Perhaps the weight of our hearts, filled with sadness and bitterness?  
We pick up the bikes and move away from Elio’s corner, from now on, ours.  
Driving home, Elio tells me, in a mixture of affirmation and questioning,

“We'll never do that again Oliver. We won't even talk about it.”

“Don't say that, Elio.”  
I don’t want to make him sad. I wish I could have hug him.

Deep down, I knew that I would never be able to regain my balance again if I don’t have a loving experience with him.  
Now that I had tasted his lips, his mouth, his tongue and I had felt the warmth of his body on mine; now that our sexes had crushed against each other through our shorts and that for a few minutes of absolute happiness we felt ourselves forming a single being, I was sure that we would inevitably make love.

I don't know what Elio really feels for me. I want none of us to suffer.

But I know that no matter how hard I try to hold back, fear shame and fight to avoid him, nothing will prevent our bodies from finding each other and letting themselves go to the desires that consume us since we met.

In the depths of my soul, I am fighting a battle I feel lost in advance because I know that, sooner or later, I will open my heart to Elio and offer it to him, completely bare  
.  
Because I'm not a bad guy and I’m sure Elio is better than me.


	4. MY FIRST LOVE NIGHT WITH ELIO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OLIVER’S MEMORIES  
> CMBYN’s EXTRACTS FROM OLIVER’S PERSPECTIVE
> 
> OLIVER OPENS HIS HEART AND TELLS YOU HIS OWN STORY
> 
> WARNING  
> Oliver's memories are not necessarily exactly the same as Elio's, neither in words nor in time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT WERE OLIVER’S THOUGHTS HOURS BEFORE MAKING LOVE TO ELIO ?
> 
> WHAT REALLY HAPPENED DURING THE FIRST NIGHT OF LOVE BETWEEN THEM ?
> 
> WHAT CONSEQUENCES DID THAT NIGHT OF LOVE HAD FOR THEIR FUTURE LIVES ?
> 
> Important warning  
> This chapter contains explicit and detailed sex scenes

IN PROGRESS  
Scheduled for July 20


	5. I ABANDON ELIO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OLIVER’S MEMORIES  
> CMBYN’s EXTRACTS FROM OLIVER’S PERSPECTIVE
> 
> OLIVER OPENS HIS HEART AND TELLS YOU HIS OWN STORY
> 
> WARNING  
> Oliver's memories are not necessarily exactly the same as Elio's, neither in words nor in time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY DID OLIVER DECIDE TO ABANDON ELIO ?
> 
> WHAT WERE THE CONSEQUENCES FOR THEIR LIVES ?
> 
> WERE THEIR LIVES A SAD WASTE ?
> 
> Important warning  
> This chapter contains explicit and detailed sex scenes

In Progress  
Scheduled to August


End file.
